The Best Laid Plans
by insubordinationfreak
Summary: Alex attempts to get some 'me' time, but Bobby keeps interfering.
1. Let's Get It On

"Let's Get it Oooon!' crooned Marvin Gaye from the speakers of Alex's bedroom. His voice of chocolate coated nuts was completely oblivious as to why it had been set on 'repeat' that evening.

_Aidan Quinn!_ Alex commanded aloud. That's who she was supposed to be thinking about while she was lying on her back on her special, rarely used, white silk sheets. She'd seen the actor in an old '80s movie the other week and had stored his sex scenes in her 'bank' for such occasions of self-pleasure. However, as a certain unnamed detective was wont to quote, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Alas! Aidan's image kept disappearing and being usurped by another man each time she plunged the vibrator into herself (Bobby who?).

Bobby's image had only appeared in her masturbatory fantasies once before, about a month ago, and she had managed to send him to purgatory rather quickly. Sure, Bobby was attractive, always had been. But it was just wrong to imagine him in that way, so he had been quickly vanquished.

_Liam Neeson_! she tried again. Ooa_aaaaah! This could work_. Liam was so big-boned, so tall, so masculine, and so powerful in that 'Taken' movie. He could take her right now. When had she started fantasizing about really oversized men anyway? _That_ was new.

She looked into Liam's imaginary eyes and then closed her own as she felt the tremendous weight of his hips thrusting into her. "Eames!" he moaned slowly, but it was her partner's voice she heard. This unexpected occurrence made her open her eyelids once again. This time it was Bobby's dark chocolate eyes with their accompanying, downright lick-able dark puffy circles that looked back into hers. _Fuck! I can't do this. I can't think about Bobby. It's wrong!_ her inner voice rebelled.

The rabbit ears peripheral tickled her clit and she lost her senses momentarily. _Detective Goren! _she called out, and with that, she shame(less)fully gave in. She imagined him kissing her. She had never seen him kiss anyone, but she knew those lips so soft and thick. They were unyielding, relentless and filled with long, long tongue. Tongue which crammed and probed and prodded her all over. His cock was a wide nine and hot and hard. She felt herself wetten. There had been too much of that sensation at work lately- sticky, moist, horny residue. Maybe it was her biological clock ticking, but she had been wearing panty liners every day for the past few months because she was so wet for him. Late one night after a long case, he was sitting at his desk opposite her, eating noodles with chopsticks in a way that was so unintentionally erotic. He had put them down momentarily to slowly remove his tie and undo the top button of his blue collar and one more button for good measure. She had gotten just a peak of chest hair, just a glimpse out of the corner of her eye.

Urged on by this image, she sat up on her bed and got on her knees, repositioning so she could maneuver herself up and down the shaft of her vibrator, gripping around its girth. Meanwhile, imaginary Bobby lay on his back looking up at her in awe and lust, stroking her nipples and breasts and grabbing her hips with his long fingers and large hands. The very real vibrations coupled with 'unreal' Bobby proved too much. She came and came deep, and it stimulated an awakening of an almost atrophied muscle group. This was accompanied by a new type of orgasmic sound. It was not her usual high-pitched, clipped porno 'Aahh! Yeah!' cry. Instead she produced a small series of deep, guttural grunts as she released her pleasure and shame.

When these noises finally subsided, she climbed off the vibrator, switched off its remote and fell back onto her silk sheets, shaking. He had vanished into thin air. Black spots clouded her in eyes for a minute or so. When she could see once more, she swiftly stood up, got the antibacterial wash, cleaned the vibe in the sink, dried it, and threw it back in the drawer. She turned on the hot water hard, and jumped in the shower, still glowing and full of electricity. She admonished herself, while she washed, _that was just wrong, wrong, just wrong_. She turned the hot water on harder, scalding hard.

"Let's Get it Oooon!" urged Marvin once again from the speakers. This time the voice seemed somehow aware of what it had just provoked.

"Ags!*h!" she screamed.


	2. Of Mice And Men

Bobby's attitude towards sex had changed lately. For one thing, he didn't seem to want the hassle of drinking, dating, dicking, and then dumping women who would all, sooner or later, ask him to carry out their arrest and handcuffing fantasies.

This meant that he had been celibate for a while. These long bouts of celibacy had been increasing in duration and frequency over the past few years. However, he was still very much a man who liked to fuck.

After a time the levy rose too high and had to break, and it was due to break that night. He was right now treating himself to a cab-ride to the chosen young lady's apartment building for the occasion. He found himself surprised that he was eagerly anticipating what was to come. He carried no flowers, for it was not that kind of date.

His sex drive, though somewhat dissipated with what he knew was mild depression, had reared itself over the past two weeks, and couldn't be contained by self-wrangling. The week prior had cruelly gifted him with a particularly tragic and brutal case, and he had argued with Eames (and the brass) over some of his approaches. Their criticisms might have even been justified, but he had exacted a confession. Why did he have to feel guilty about that?

When Eames was disappointed in him, she could become terse and cutting in her remarks. Part of him wanted to respond by being obsequious and apologetic, but the other part of him wanted to press his mouth on hers, stick in his tongue, throw her over his shoulder and take her to the nearest vertical or horizontal surface to sort it out.

Yes, he looked at Eames in that way sometimes; he thought about what she'd be like in bed, but that was one relationship that was too precious to screw up, and screwing her would screw it up. There were too many emotions there and too many possibilities for complete devastation. They were the most important people in each other's lives and he knew that the partnership had to be protected at all costs, as it had been growing increasingly fragile and frustrating of late. If that meant pretending that he didn't regard her as a potential romantic partner, then that's what he would continue to do. It's what he had always done, but it had never been such a struggle for him before.

Something had gradually and subtly shifted in their relationship. He couldn't identify quite when, but she had become his right arm and he needed her as much as he needed his limbs. He knew it wouldn't be wise to poke the bear. How could he fuck her without professing his love and admiration for her? He couldn't. Changing their relationship was the last thing she needed. She already had enough of his crap to deal with. The whole concept had far too high a risk of losing her and if he lost her, then he would be truly lost.

So he looked elsewhere on occasion, and this week, elsewhere had looked back at him. All his life, he had rarely had to initiate interest from women. He found that just looking them in the eye and listening to what they had to say tended to win most ladies over quite quickly.

Through his own choice, he had cut himself off from his sexuality. It had been almost eight months since he'd bedded a woman or even gotten a blow-job. He only had just enough mental and physical resources for his family situation and his job and he saved all his focus and energy for that. Sex and personal relationships had to fall by the wayside for now. This was probably the biggest drought he'd had since he was fourteen years old and his mind was even a little reluctant to get back on the saddle, but his dick was not. Normally a magnet for willowy, wealthy, high maintenance brunettes, he had lately found that their eyes were roaming elsewhere. With his extra 20 pounds and more casual choices in clothing and shoes of late, he had lost some of his slickness and smarmy confidence.

Although he was no longer attracting certain types of women, the sheer quantity and variety of females who hit on him had actually increased. He wasn't quite ready to articulate why, because that would require looking too long and too hard at himself. Instead, he simply dismissed them as having fantasies about attempting to rescue a big rugged, protective (yet tortured) detective with an emotionally unavailable soul. That was why he found them so easy to resist for so many months.

And that was why he was pleasantly surprised that week to find a woman who was interested in him for his mind.

On the orders of the department under the umbrella of 'professional development', Bobby was required to undertake a special week-long project across town, independent of his senior partner and Major Case. It couldn't have been timelier because there was still a little lingering tension on Eames' part over their previous case. A break might do them good, so he warmly bid her goodbye on the Friday and she looked relieved to be rid of him.

The woman who caught his eye on the following Monday was part of bigger team of techies and academic researchers who specialized in criminal profiling. For several months, this team had been consulting with Goren via email regarding a cutting-edge profiling software program, and now the NYPD had granted them a whole week to pick his brain in order to get some practical insights into their project. He had to admit that his ego liked all the attention. The entire team knew of his career and were like groupies who hung off his every word and deed. However, he couldn't deny that he was also intellectually stimulated by the practical applications the software could provide for law enforcers. It was potentially groundbreaking stuff. As a result, he wanted to know all the finer details of what each team member was working on.

He was able to glean, even from their first meeting, that she was interested. For a start, she darted her eyes down and avoided eye-contact and called him 'Detective Goren', even though he had insisted she call him Robert. It was pretty obvious that she had no problem communicating with anyone else – just him. The demureness was rather cute, and made her look very young -too young - though she had to be 25 at least. The tartan mini skirt and white blouse and chunky black shoes did not help the matter and made him feel a little lecherous.

For a profiler, it might be surprising to know that he wasn't quite aware that her height was pretty much congruent with one Alex Eames. This was a change for him, as he was normally attracted to taller, leggier women. However, that's where the similarity with his partner ended. This woman was a geek, a techie. Granted she was a very cute, raven-haired techie with a pixie haircut, dark eyes, and gorgeous soft pale skin. More intriguingly, Bobby thought she had a sexy brain when it came to details. Unfortunately, it was not matched with a grounding sharp wit; she was almost naïve at times. Body-wise, she was petite but not strong. She wasn't the type to go to the gym, but still being in her mid to late twenties, she could get away with it. She had oversized breasts and a delicious plump butt, which he briefly fantasized about biting. Although she was not his usual type, he envisioned she would be soft and sexy and overwhelmingly out of her depth when he got her into bed. Bobby approved.

Her role was a support software programmer and she excitedly explained to him about the codes she was writing. She was genuinely impressed when he showed enthusiasm for her work and could follow her breakneck-paced trains of thought. When he pointed out an anomaly in her source code, she looked up at him through her long dark lashes and flushed at his white-toothed smile which greeted her.

She was genuinely awed at the consistent brilliance this man demonstrated over the past few days. The fact that he didn't need a search function and could locate the interruption in patterns with his naked eyes, his naked dark eyes which were now meeting hers, fascinated her. In that moment, her mental panties were already flung off to some far corner of the room. He had her. She was completely mesmerized when he slowly reached his long, elegant index finger and touched her under the eye and applied pressure.

"Eyelash," he said and blew it off his finger gently. She inhaled sharply at the contact and at how delicious this man, this _fully-grown_ man was. Because she was normally surrounded by awkward, plain, geeky types who drooled all over her, she found herself unable to communicate with the detective without feeling silly. However, he definitely possessed an inner-geek and that was a compliment. This man was no Neanderthal. She longed to touch the mole on his cheek and the crease in is forehead? Was it a scar? She suddenly stood up and stumbled over her chair.

"I'll get us a coffee," she said in a shakey voice and bolted from the room, not bothering to ask him how he took it.

With his subsequent brief interactions with her throughout the week, he learned from her behavior, body language and conversation skills that she wasn't particularly sexually sophisticated, and that was OK by him. He'd had enough of the _Sex and the City_ types to last a lifetime. He figured he would have to take the initiative to ask her out, and so was pleasantly surprised when, on the last Friday while the team was out for farewell drinks, she quietly gave him her number and invited him to her place the next night 'to get more insights on the program'. Man, he didn't really even have to try in this city.

Saturday night came. After he paid the cab driver, he pressed the buzzer at the front door of her apartment building, and vaguely hoped that she lived alone.

"Hello?" she sounded nervous over the intercom.

"It's Robert Goren," he replied.

"Uh, come right up. I'll buzz you in," she sounded adorably nervous and he started to feel a little guilty about using her to fulfill his own needs, but she knew what she was doing when she invited him over. It's not like she'd asked him out to lunch or drinks. So in he went.


	3. Polly Want A Cracker?

As he takes the elevator, he has no need to feel anything but supreme confidence. She will be play-dough in his hands just begging to be molded, and he knows it. He won't even have to try to seduce her. As he exits the elevator to locate her apartment, her door is already open.

As he walks in, he's relieved to find it's a studio, which means she doesn't have roommates he has to deal with. She looks cute in a red halter neck, a black mini and black high-heels. She looks at him with approval in his clean dark blue jeans, black t-shirt and long brown leather jacket. She helps him take it off and hangs it carefully on a hook. He is slightly disappointed because her apartment is decorated in a minimalist style, which reveals little about her personality, and the art on the wall is non-descript. He almost feels as though he is in one of the interrogation rooms. Everything is so stark. With an internal shrug, he decides that it's a good thing. He can instead focus on the task at hand.

"Hello Det... I mean, Robert. Did you find the place OK?" she asks, bringing over a tray of cheese and two glasses of Merlot.

He closes the door behind him and stoops down to kiss her on the cheek and takes a class of wine. "Sure, it's a great place you have here, if a little small," he notes as she fusses over him. She rests the tray on the coffee table and looks up at him.

"Well, it's not small for me. It must seem like tiny town to you."

She smiles and blushes while he laughs politely. They both sit down on the white sofa and help themselves to some Brie, while sipping on their wine.

"So where's your bookcase hidden?" he enquires.

"Oh, I don't have a bookcase. I do everything electronically. It's kind of in my job description."

"Really?" He remarks with genuine surprise. He knows she is far too young for him and has no interest in perusing her e-books.

"Yeah, check this out," she stands up and slides open a hidden panel on the wall and some '90s sounding rock wafts out.

"You like the classics, huh?" he jokes.

She doesn't get it and she is starting to worry, as this is not something she normally does. All the other men she's slept with have been much younger and…smaller and less worldly. She's starting to feel very much out of her league. "_Geez, what if he didn't even come here to sleep with me?" _she thought to herself.

The atmosphere is starting to get awkward and Goren understands, not for the first time, why some men and women call professionals to take care of their sexual needs. He is relieved when she breaks the verbal silence.

"Um, so do you want to look at a new update for the program I've been working on?" she asks, trying to break the ice.

She is still standing, so he puts his own glass down and stands up and walks towards her. He silently takes the glass from her hand and rests it on the black coffee table. He then puts her hand in his and looks down into her eyes to bring her gaze back up. He knows exactly what he's good at.

"Is that really why you asked me here Pixie?" he whispers throatily. He knows that her name is Polly, but he finds it ridiculous. Wasn't that the name of Eames' parrot? Since Polly looks pixie-like, that is what he has been calling her for the past few days, as a flirty little joke between them.

She looks up at him shakes her head slightly as he leans down and presses his lips to hers. She inhales sharply as he moves slowly and deliberately and gently coaxes her lips apart. He tastes of wine and cheese and masculinity and she savours the flavour. He changes angles and pushes his tongue into her mouth, probing and tasting, and she goes giddy, which makes her vaginal muscles contract. She can feel herself becoming wet in preparation and every lip on her body is wet and famished. She responds with a sudden fervour and returns his tongue-play. His lips are full and sensuous and the man is simply succulent and delicious and so she tries to eat his face; she lifts her hand to his cheeks and feels the rough stubble, and runs her fingers through his slightly curly salt and pepper hair. She finds herself climbing on tip-toes to reach as high as she can to suck on his cute nose and stroke his strong shoulders and arms. He's so very powerful. He suddenly pushes her back a little and gazes at her.

She really is quite a rare beauty with her large dark eyes and cute nose and pixie face and hair. He's surprised that she's not wearing much make-up. He understands why he has chosen her tonight, she's trying her little heart out. It would be cruel not to oblige her.

He looks into her eyes hungrily while he slides all his fingertips down her bare arms from her shoulders to her wrists. They are covered with goosebumps and she is already trembling at his touch. He starts to lift her red halter neck off and she raises her arms willingly. His focus is diverted momentarily at the sight of her breasts in a black lace bra. They are magnificent, a generous C cup and definitely natural. He can't take surgically enhanced ones, so enthusiastically applies his mouth to these. His hands deftly undo the clasp of her bra, which is conveniently at the front and they are revealed in their full glory. The areola are large, but not overly so, and her nipples are a rosey pale pink. He registers surprise at that because her hair and eyes are dark. He stops thinking and starts being a man, as he leans down and blows and licks and suckles them.

"Oooh, aaah, don't stop!" she begs in a whisper. He disobeys.

Instead, he grips her around her hips and runs his hands around her firm, but ample ass. He kisses her more roughly this time, with even more tongue as he reaches down her butt to the back of her upper thighs and firmly grips onto them. She wraps her legs around him as he lifts her up and presses her against the nearest wall. She is as light as a feather and is now at his height. Her skit is hitched and her legs are already apart in surrender and wrapped around him as he carries her about three feet to her bed.

He lays her down and she sits up and peels off his black t-shirt, the lust in her eyes is apparent as she puts her lips to his nipples. He pushes her down onto her back and runs his hands down her legs, removing her high heels. He locates the zip at the side of her skirt and slides it off slowly. He removes her black pantyhose slowly and purposefully; all the while keeping eye contact to clearly let her know what he is about to do with her.

Something inside his boxers has awakened from hibernation and is now raging to get out to hunt, capture, and feast.

She surprises him once more as he takes off her underwear and finds a fine covering of black hair. He was sure she'd be bare and he's very pleased that she isn't. She smells heady, sweet and ready and he moves her legs apart and puts is face into her. The moans that escape tell him that this has never been done to her properly before. He loves how sweet and clean she tastes, because not all women taste this good. For amusement, and to stop himself from ejaculating too early, he concentrates on etching out a tongued alphabet in block letters over various parts of her vulva and clit as well as above, below, and in her vagina- A, B, C…..D. He writes with his tongue up and down, soft and firm, looking up at her intermittently to check her reactions. She comes at G, and again at V, with a little help from his fingers.

After waking the neighbours, she lies down panting. Her heart is beating at least double the normal rate and doesn't slow down any as he stands up and takes off his belt, jeans, socks, and finally boxers. She sits up a little to take a look and then just rudely stares. She doesn't know how many inches it is, but is at least three inches longer than the biggest she's had. It is also wider, harder and a whole lot prettier. It's a major league cock standing right there at attention before her, and she's worried for a moment that it could dislocate her jaw, but she crawls over to him, grabs his wide thighs and opens her mouth anyway, helping him with the condom before starting to lick her lollipop. She doesn't know that it's a self-lubing condom, and that mixed with her saliva, it will make her ride smoother. Bobby is considerate that way.

He moans and doesn't try to stifle it as she suctions and slides her lips and tongue along his sheathed cock. Goren doesn't usually go for small women, but here he is, getting all hot and bothered over one. Deep down he realizes why, and it comes to the surface now. He knows that it's not about power or snugness, but about Eames. He wants to know what it might feel like to fuck her without any emotions involved. He can pretend to do it right here, but only if he turns Pixie over, so he can't see her face.

He knows that starting with missionary would be more polite, but flips her over anyway and drags her towards him. He will get to the nicer stuff later, besides, this way she doesn't have to deal with his weight. She's on her stomach and he stares at her magnificent ass cheeks under the dimmed lights. He leans down and licks and bites each of them and pulls her up on her knees, plunging his lizard-like tongue in and out of her sweet slick, and very tight young cunt.

"God, shove it in Detective Goren. Fuck me! Don't make me wait!"

Pixie has finally found her voice, and this time he obliges. He is already close to the edge after far too many months of fucking nothing but his own hands. If he waits any longer, it will be over before it begins. He kneels over her and positions himself to slowly enter her. She is very tight, and although wet, it requires a bit of force to get right up there and a bit more jiggling to start the friction. She arches her back higher and spread her knees farther apart to try to make more room. He has never heard a pixie grunt before, but he hears one now and it quickly turns into unbridled screams as he starts his rocking motion and drives and rotates into her. Polly was finally getting her cracker.

As for her, it was her first big cock. When he was fully inside her, it reached a part of her insides that she didn't know were there. The feeling of the his hardness reaching an extra yard inside of her and pressing into her as far as she went, and then out again brought a deluge of sexual hormones from some other world, and she came for the third time that night. She came harder and more truly than she had even done in her life. She wanted to give up and stop after that, but he kept going.

"Oh God, Alex!" he moaned, slapping her on the butt and she didn't really care who the fuck Pixie or Alex were. Despite lacking a great deal of sexual experience, she had enough insight to sense that her current weighty pummeling was the fuck of a lifetime, the sexual equivalent of black tar heroin. She knew that it was a height she may never reach again. As he withdrew his unyielding erection from her, she found herself being lifted as he arranged the pillows against her bedhead and sat down and pulled her onto his hips. He had lifted her as though she weighed nothing and during this process, she had got a look at his hard and gorgeous butt and reciprocated the slap, something she had never done in her life before.

He grinned at her lecherously as she straddled him, and then the smile faded as he focused on her more intently. The way he ran his eyes down her body had her hyptonised as he raised her up a little and down onto him, impaling her once more. He put the palm of his hand over her face and she couldn't see, but she barely noticed because of the sensations below her navel. She gasped because it hurt inside, but she was so turned on that she began to ride up and down and rolled her head back, her breasts bouncing to the rhythm of the rock song. She even imagined on Monday, she'd be telling her colleagues that she had been nailed by that big, genius profiler Robert Goren and how he had fucked her until the walls shook with a detailed intensity "for ages". Whether or not he was thinking about another women, really it was a win/win situation they were both in.

Because her eyes were closed, she missed the look on his face when he came, but she felt him lose control with his last few assaults and heard him groan 'Eames, Eames', with release and satisfaction. She collapsed in a sore, painful shaking heap next to him. Her insides felt like scrambled eggs and she was sure she was probably bleeding a little.

He rolled her off him and left her shuddering. He wasn't so calm himself. He had come so hard and, when he finally climaxed, all he could see and smell was Eames. It had been Eames in those last few moments and his thirst was now slaked. Feeling a little guilty about covering Pixie's face, he woke her at 3am for a second round, and he was a little less selfish this time and made it about her. He also showed her a few unusual moves to remember him by. Unfortunately, she had sucked and bitten him on the neck in reaction, and he dreaded the prime retail location the bruise would be in when he walked into the office on Monday.

When she drifted off to sleep for a second time, he used the bathroom, dressed and left, cleaning up the condoms. It was a little cold to leave without saying goodbye, he knew. But it was kinder in the long run. She had asked him over to fuck her and he had fulfilled her request quite thoroughly. An uncomfortable conversation over breakfast would only ruin the memory.

He caught the subway home and felt invigorated. His mood was naturally lifted and he was looking forward to a free Sunday, and back to Major Case, and Eames, on Monday. Shit, why hadn't he done this sooner?


	4. He's Back!

He went to work on Monday morning with a spring in his step. He felt a profound sensation of relief at finally having felt the warm touch and passionate response of another human being, a sexy petite, busty female human being no less. He'd forgotten how sublime sex could feel and how much he'd missed the intimacy. The skin on skin and the intense orgasms had done him the world of good, and he had slept more deeply on Sunday night than he had in many moons. He came back to work on Monday a new man. It wouldn't be quite accurate to say that he strutted into the office '70s style, but the attitude was definitely there. And the change was clear to everyone who saw him.

He entered the office in well-tailored brown designer suit, matching brown striped tie and the requisite tie clip, all of which were in marked contrast to the recent collarless (and even sometimes plaid) efforts he had been wearing to work. Prior to his date with Polly, he had gotten himself a fresh haircut, shave and nail clip. With his best black leather shoes on and pulled up to his full height, he cut quite the impression.

Instead of averting their eyes, the people he passed looked at him, said good morning and gave him eye-contact. He smiled back at them, as he had missed the energy of MCS over the past week. Darla, the cute PAA, gave him a wink and offered him a donut from the box on her desk, which he declined. A hand suddenly reached out from behind him and Mike Logan helped himself to a donut, giving Darla a wink of his own as she picked up the phone.

"Hey Goren, welcome back!" he gave him a thump on the shoulder.

"Hey Mike, anything happen while I was away?"

"Well Alex solved the cases all by herself… and you obviously got comprehensively laid."

Goren gave him stern eye-contact and tilted his head while scratching the back of his neck aggessively, but Logan was no so easily deterred.

"Oh, c'mon, don't deny it! You look ten years younger and what the _heck _is that on your neck? Little bloodsucker was she? Give me her number when you're done," he said in a low conniving tone.

Despite having tried to choose a shirt with a high collar, Goren was not able to disguise the fresh looking hickey on his neck. What was he supposed to do, wear a turtleneck all week, apply make-up? Before Goren could formulate a comeback, Mike was heading towards the elevator with a grin and a backwards wave. Goren continued towards his desk. To his surprise, Eames was already there. He usually arrived before her. He didn't realize how eager she was to see him again.

"Hey!" he greeted her brightly. "Did you miss me?"

This was so unlike Goren, that before she even looked up, she knew. _That bastard! He got laid!_ was her first thought. After she watched him take a seat and scoped out his suit and hair, her second thought was that he no longer looked like a hot mess. She couldn't help but feel little disappointed. Now he was just back to being just hot, and where was the intrigue in that?

"So are you all professionally developed now?" she asked. She sure as hell wasn't going to admit to him that she didn't enjoy the week without him as much as she had anticipated. She thought that working her cases alone would be fun. While she was quite capable of doing it on her own, she had missed her six foot three-and-a-half inch shadow.

"Eames, you wouldn't believe how amazing this software can be. I have to trial it some more but…." She tuned out his drone, not because she didn't care, but because her mind was someplace else while she was staring at him. He was dressed in brown and looked like tasty coffee and chocolate and all things good and decadent. His hands were flailing around as though they were starring in a finger-and-wrist porn fetish movie. He slowly leaned back in his chair…_Wait! What in hell was that on his neck? A hickey? He had a hickey?_ Her jealousy rose as she started to imagine what that body had been up to and into for the past week, and hitched her breath at some images which flashed before her eyes (and at some flashbacks of her own recent masturbatory fantasy). _Liam who?_

"EAMES?"

She snapped back to the present and tried to reorientate herself. She tried to update him on the case she had been working on, which she had almost closed barring a few minor details and checks, but he seemed distracted. The captain had just received news of a homicide and was waiting for the OK on Major Case's jurisdiction before assigning it. She was pretty sure they'd get it.

Then along came Polly.

Goren had ignored Polly's call to his cell that morning, and hadn't yet played the message she'd left. Truth be told, he didn't trust himself not to agree to another tryst with the little pixie. If he did agree, he risked it progressing from being a one-night stand to being some sort of relationship. His eyes widened with alarm at her sudden appearance in the bullpen. She was wearing a casual little black dress with a white-lace feature at the hem, and dark green opaque tights. IT staff could pretty much dress any way they wanted he guessed. Still, she did not work in One Police Plaza, and he was a little taken aback. Although her vision was not unpleasant, and brought back the memory of some savored past sensations, he felt the need to get her away from Eames as quickly as possible.

"Hello Detective Goren…I mean Robert," Polly said in greeting. He stood up, aware of Eames', and the rest of the eyes in the bullpen, upon him.

"Pix, Polly, it's good to see you," he found himself shaking her hand and wondered why. "I was just telling my partner about the software. Polly here is one of the programmers," he addressed to Eames, without looking at her.

"Polly Parker, this is my partner Alex Eames," he said guiltily. Polly probably already knew her name from reading about their cases in her research, but he couldn't help remember whose name he cried out while he was banging her. Had she come just to scope Eames out? Maybe she thought that he had cheated on her. Either way, he needed to separate them.

"Pleased to meet you," said Eames. "I hear your team is doing some good work."

"Well, we couldn't have done it without Robert. He made quite an impression on us. He's a genius."

"And it seems you made quite an impression on him too," she said with almost undetectable sarcasm. She looked up at Goren and her eyes said it all. He rubbed the hickey on his neck. Caught!

"Well, what can I do for you Polly?" he cringed internally as Eames watched him squirm from side to side.

"I came to talk to Jim Bowser on level 6, but thought I'd pop in and say 'Hi'."

"Uh, OK," said Goren. He knew that everyone within range was now looking at him, and probably guessing the reason for his awkwardness.

"Could I talk to you for a second?" Polly asked, trying to make eye-contact with him.

"Yeah, sure sure. Uh, I'll get you a coffee from the break room," he ushered her out quickly, not remembering to ask Eames if she wanted one. He was caught off guard and didn't realize he had placed one hand on the small of Polly's back while he guided her quickly out of the room.

_He can't have. Is she even legal?_ _Well, that explains why he looks so happy today. _

Alex wasn't sure whether the thoughts were hers or whether she was tuning into the murmurs around her. Now Goren and Polly (stupid name!) were out of sight, she felt eyes trying not to look at her to gauge her reaction. Her reaction was that she was fuming fiery hell out of her ears and trying not to show it. _So that was his type now, some tiny dark-haired young, young woman? She isn't even smart or sophisticated, yet that's who he chose to spend the past week with? Is he having a midlife crisis?_ _Why the hell would in bring her into our workplace? _She kept her countenance smooth, engrossing herself in her work. She was an observant detective and could feel the change in atmosphere around her. The knives were out and being sharpened.


	5. Through the Grapevine

**GOSSIPOKOOOOOO))nnOon**

Alex was more than aware that all levels of staff at OnePP, from the maintenance workers and administration to her fellow detectives and their superiors, regularly speculated on:

her.

Goren.

Goren and her.

Goren's mental state.

their partnership and its effect on her career progression.

their extra-curricula activities with each other,

their extra-curricula activities (or lack thereof) with others.

She found this to be a major source of frustration, but one which she could usually ignore because she knew that she exuded professionalism, which she felt would never be seriously under question. All this really irked her because they were both honest, hardworking, effective cops and good people. She really thought the spite was unwarranted, and it was one of the things that made her question why she worked for the police department at all.

Bobby appeared oblivious to all the murmurs about him, though he wouldn't stand for it if his partner were mentioned. He was probably talked about more than any other detective in Major Case, heck even the NYPD itself, and most of it was downright nasty and unfounded. Although it was never stated, it was fairly obvious to everyone that Goren and Eames were the first string detectives. They were always the ones to be assigned the glamorous, high-profile cases that every other pair of detectives wanted, the ones that needed to be solved at all costs. Their success in cracking such cases bred envy and discontent, as many thought Goren and Eames' status was unjustified, especially when their methods were not always strictly by the book.

It was the general consensus that they were too heavily reliant upon Goren's hunches and talent for extracting confessions from sexy interrogations rather than hard evidence. They (well, he) regularly pissed off the Captain, the Chief of Detectives and numerous defense attorneys who felt their clients' rights had been violated, not the mention the ADA, the DA himself and a number of judges. Yet they were still given the plum cases.

Deep down the other detectives knew it was because of Goren's otherworldly intelligence and understanding of criminal psychology, and it was doubly galling to them that he was usually right. They overlooked the fact that Goren and Eames clocked up more hours than anyone, at the expense of their social lives.

Goren's unpopularity was exacerbated by the fact that he rarely sought anyone else's advice. This independence was generally seen as conceited and was compounded by Bobby's lack of social skills, especially towards people he didn't feel had the capacity to understand his theories. He had few friends in the squad, and it had become worse over the past year. Before he had been like an untouchable demi-god, but now with his weight gain, a few professional failures and whispers of mental problems, the daggers were out for him. Johnny-come-lately Mike Logan (who ironically was one of Bobby's allies) could be problematic and unorthodox too, but he was charming and sociable, which made up for it. Goren was found wanting in comparison and, just at this juncture; he was about as far away from being a golden boy as he had ever been in his career.

Eames on the other hand was well-liked and respected, but it was known that she wouldn't hear a bad word said about her partner and would defend him stridently if she heard even a whiff of criticism. This dog-like loyalty was seen as almost irrational, and she was therefore tainted by association. Some credited the cause of her unwavering allegiance to his cock that had been, according to folklore, hammering her for many years. The skeptics, on the other hand, said that she could only dream of that being the case, and that she had been running after him all these years hoping to get a piece of his action. Of course there were exceptions, colleagues who understood what Goren and Eames were really about, but they were few and far between. Everyone else talked.

Over the years, maybe her mind had modified and exaggerated what she had overheard in the ladies' room, in the bullpen, in the halls near the vending machine and while approaching the staff kitchen. But in her memory, it went something like this:

_Jeez, Goren's in a foul mood this morning; Eames mustn't have blown him yet._

"Wow! I haven't seen Goren in a few months. He looks like death warmed up. What the hell happened to him?

"_She must feed him a pound of skittles every time she fucks him."_

I hear Rodgers caught them in a compromising position on the slab with a cadaver.

_There's no way they're fucking! I'd lay a bet that she's a rug muncher_.

"_She's in a shit mood. I'm gonna havta put a vibrator in her drawer and see if she'll take the hint."_

"_Why? She's already got a prick sitting right opposite her."_

He's nuttier than a fruitcake. It's only a matter of time before he's fired. It's only because of Eames that they haven't done it already.

_I hear he didn't leave a female cop unfucked over at narcotics._

_They could win an Olympic gold in eye-fucking_

I'm telling you. Susie says he's packing nine and a half at least, and that he's really weird in bed. Apparently it's so big, she had to visit the doctor the next day. .

Looks like she forgot to iron his shirt this morning.

"_It's a wonder she didn't have him committed after that anthrax case." _

"_Yeah well, she's scared they won't allow conjugal visits in the psych ward. It's too bad. She coulda had a real shot if she wasn't such a slave to her ax wound."_

And here were her charming (mostly male) colleagues talking about them once again today, probably speculating that she just found out that he was cheating on her with Polly

About a month or two earlier, Eames had broached the subject of office innuendo with Goren, after they had heard a particularly nasty exchange aimed at his mental and physical state.

("That perp is one fat crazy son-of-a-bitch."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going round")

It was stated just loudly enough for their benefit, but with just enough ambiguity about who it referred to, to avoid confrontation.

She recalled looking across her desk at her partner, "Don't you get sick of that kind of thing from those two balding bozos?" she had asked.

"What, that? No. I consider it a compliment," Bobby answered sincerely.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him doubtfully, "How so?"

"Tall poppy syndrome," he replied cryptically.

She sighed, "OK, enlighten me Detective."

He moved forward in his chair excitedly. She loved it when he was about to tell her something obscure, and found herself moving forward in her chair too. He used to be like that all the time earlier in their partnership, but he had changed, hardened. She relished the old Bobby anytime she saw a flash of him

"Well, it's a perjorative term mainly used in Anglosphere countries, especially the Antipodes, though it originated from Herodotus's writings (which referred to wheat rather than poppies)," he added as a side note.

She nodded sarcastically (if it's even possible to nod with sarcasm), resting one hand under her chin. "Herodotus, huh? Get outta here!"

A delayed and slight hint of a grin appeared on his face, as it often did when she delivered one of her reactions. He continued enthusiastically, "The crux of it is that people who appear to have an inordinate amount of influence, talent, success, or any other kind of merit appear to grow notably higher than the rest of the crop. They're tall poppies". He paused for effect. "Nobody likes a tall poppy, so they have to be cut down. Uh.. attacked and criticized to bring them back down to size." Then he added with a resigned tone, "I'm afraid that perceived elevation from one's peers invites that sort of thing,"

"So you are a tall poppy?"

"No, _we_ are tall poppies," he corrected, "and we need to be cut down to size." He wasn't oblivious that she was not immune to being the target of office chitchat.

"And this you find flattering?" she enquired.

"Well, yeah, don't you?"

She grinned and shook her head, picked up her pen, and got back to her notes. There was just something special about her partner. He _was_ a tall poppy.

Eames mind came back to the present when she was summoned to the Captain's office.

When she came out, Goren was sitting at his desk, pretending to be engrossed in something. His teenaged-lover (snicker) must have left.

Goren was a little out-of-sorts. Polly had called him and left a message, but he was still doubting her motives. She had come on the proviso of returning a small secondary keyring to him, which she claimed she found on the floor of her apartment. It only contained the keys of his locker, and a mail box, and a few other minor things. He hadn't really concerned himself with its absence. The thing was, he couldn't remember even taking the keyring out at her place. Now his mind was trying to recall the moments he arrived and left her apartment. Had he heard anything drop? Had she deliberately taken it from the pocket of his jacket when she had helped him take it off? Had she gotten up while he was sleeping in between fucks to make an excuse to see him again, and rile Eames? _This is why I never have relationships_, he thought to himself, _too much hassle_. In the break room, he told Polly that he had a great time and thanked her. He meant it. He also told her that he wasn't ready for a regular relationship right now because of a family situation. She seemed to take it on the chin, but he could see she was slightly annoyed and didn't believe his reason. His partner approaching their desks broke him from his reverie.

"New case, a diplomat's mother-in-law was found murdered on the Upper-East Side about two hours ago. We've gotta go check it out."

He grabbed his badge and gun and they walked out together, feeling the eyes on their backs. Their being assigned the diplomat case was no going to help them in the popularity stakes, but they focused on the job at hand, discussing the brief of the case as they drove. The subject of Polly was not broached by either of them. There was a puzzle to be solved.


	6. Quite a handful!

CRIME SCENE

She felt disgusted, not because she was standing next to a fresh corpse, but because she was turned on while standing next to a fresh corpse. Bobby was so gentle, so respectful, so sensuous with the older female victim. From the moment he slid on those latex gloves with a snap or two, she had been enthralled by his long, elegant fingers sheathed in white and she again wondered if there were such a genre as hand pornography. He moved them gently, first caressing the victim's jaw and then tracing the outline of a butterfly on her neck and maneuvering his impossibly long legs in order to access a deeper whiff of her mouth.

The whole scenario was sending primitive signals straight to her vaginal walls, and she turned around to face the other way to try to break her train of thought and regain focus. She didn't know why he was having this physical effect on her just recently, when she had seen this very scene so many times before. What she did know is that Goren had one less thing to worry about. His biggest fear was inheriting schizophrenia, but apart from being beyond the age of risk of manifestation, one of the symptoms was reduced olfactory sensitivity. The way he was inhaling the victim's scent showed that he was, if anything, gifted in that regard. She drifted off for a moment to fantasize about him slowing inhaling her scent as he went down on her…. She turned back around at the sound of his voice and got back to reality.

"She has a goiter with multiple nodules," he remarked as he continued massaging her thyroid gland below her neck. "Her thinning hair also suggests she had thyroid disease. Her breath smells metallic- like iodine- and see how the skin over the thyroid is inflamed? She's been poisoned, I'd say by a potent liquid form of iodine. She's eaten bananas and…oatmeal. Had coffee too. We need to get her breakfast leftovers to the lab." Eames did as she was bidden and was soon organizing the collection of evidence.

They were back at their desks. It was 9pm and, after a hard day's work where Goren had taken the lead. She was tired, hungry and frustrated. The diplomat had refused to reveal any information, and was within his rights not to. Unfortunately, he was the prime suspect for the murder of his mother-in-law. With his diplomatic immunity, he could skip the country at any time or just stay and gloat. Goren and Eames were the last two left on their floor of One Police Plaza. She was seething. Maybe it was due to PMS, maybe it was Polly, but most of all it was probably her partner's utter cluelessness and indifference of her perspective. After snapping at him over a few trifling things, he sighed.

"Why don't you go home Eames? I'll take care of this," he suggested kindly, reading her tired face. Something inside her rose up like an angry cobra.

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

He looked up at her in surprise, not knowing how to take her sudden belligerence. She had been a little testy all day, and didn't seem at all happy to have him back.

"Well, only if you want," he added appeasingly.

"Goddamnit Goren!"

"What? What's the matter?

"You really have no idea, do you?" Her voice was getting louder.

He paused, "Is this about what happened earlier, with Polly? Are you jealous or something?"

"Oh right. It has to be about your new little girlfriend, right? Don't flatter yourself Goren because you're really quite resistible to women who've hit puberty."

He almost corrected Polly's age, but bit his tongue. He knew his best course of action would be silence, and this enraged her more.

"You wanna know what's wrong?" she exploded. "You didn't even ask me about how I went last week, about my cases. You were too busy talking about _your_ project and _your_ trials as Supreme Master Profiler of the Universe. _We_ solved those cases together you know. _I___was there. In fact, it may surprise you to know that I solved a case last week without you. Then you just waltz back in with your re-discovered cockiness barking orders, and ignoring everything I have to say. I am the senior partner and you just took over the crime scene, the interrogation room – everything. Oh, and if that's not enough, you parade around the office in your _new brown suit_ showing off your love tattoo while having a conference with a 16-year-old in our workplace. Meanwhile everyone in the office is talking about our love life!"

He flinched a little at some of her remarks, as he knew there was some truth to them, but stayed calm, "Is there anything else on your mind?"

"Yeah, there is!" she continued, "_We_ don't even have a love life. How come you get all the action and I get all the derision. Everyone on this damn floor thinks I've been fucking you for years, and what the hell do I get out of it? Shit, if they're going to talk about me as though I'm guilty, I should at least get a hickey on _my _neck."

His eyes widened in surprise and he suddenly stood up. His blonde partner had never looked so fired up or so sexy. His head cocked to the side just slightly, as he considered his next move. A slight smile appeared on his countenance. "Eames," he baited, "I think we need to sort this out once and for all," and his eyes darted around, searching for a vertical or horizontal surface, before resting his eyes down at the desk in front of him.


	7. The Tables are Turned

Eames didn't usually curse unless she was drunk, and he knew she must be really mad, and he was fairly certain of the reason why. She must want him every bit as much as he wanted her. After looking down at the desk, and looking up at the ceiling, he craned his back and neck almost backwards as only his elastic body could. He looked up at the corners of the ceiling, contemplating…and thinking of Mike Logan!

Mike had told him a crude little snippet not too long after he had joined the Major Case Squad. He was trying to break the ice with Goren, not realizing that macho talk definitely wasn't his thing. Logan had mentioned the interrogation room, Darla the PAA, some post-it notes over camera lenses, and an evening of fun which was followed up by a friendly chat with the guy who monitors the CCTV of Police Plaza the next day.

Alex watched in puzzlement as Goren picked up a roll of tape and yellow post-its from his desk. Her awe continued as her moved his chair, stood on it carefully, and secured the post-its over the lens of a security camera. He then wheeled his chair across the room and repeated the process deftly. She had often seen him climbing and doing strange things since becoming his partner, so she bided her time patiently.

He jumped down and walked towards her with purpose. She cowered and shivered and stared at his huge thighs, which looked like sturdy brown tree trunks. When he reached her, he swiftly put one hand to her cheek and looked her in the eyes with a heavy gaze of desire. His touch sent a surge of electricity through her.

His voice was low and sexy as he spoke, "I know I take you for granted all the time Eames, but I want you to know that I really…really do appreciate you," and he demonstrated the truth of those words as her pressed his lips to hers, quickly coaxing them open and sticking in his tongue in her mouth, where he found more pleasure than eating ice-cream on the hottest day of summer. She wanted to slap him across the face and stop him, and get mad. But his moans of heady euphoria stopped her, and he elicited a few sounds from her throat that she had never heard before and she sucked on his strong tongue. As the kiss deepened, she felt herself magically levitating skywards before she realized that he had thrown her tiny frame over one shoulder and was lumberjacking her over from her side of the desk to his.

"Hey!" she protested in surprise and kicked her legs and fists furiously. He quickly sat her down on the edge of his side of the desk and looked at her.

"Eames, this thing between us has got to come to a head right here, right now. We've gotta sort this out once and for all," he insisted, covering her mouth with his again before she could respond. It wasn't merely a kiss. A word she had heard somewhere in her youth popped into her head. It was _pashing._ Her partner was _pashing_ her. He too quickly withdrew his hot mouth and soft wet lips away from her face and she found herself panting for more Bobbyliciousness.

He bent down and swept the length of his arm swiftly across the desk. Mugs, stationery, photographs, his cherished binder, case files, and books all tumbled to the floor. He repeated the process with her desk. She thought for a minute she would protest, but she knew better than to break Detective Goren's focus. Instead, she just watched him, gob smacked. What the fuck was happening?

He came back around to where she was sitting and started a private show. He and removed his $500 brown suit jacket and threw it somewhere. Still sitting, she reached out for his tie and pulled her prize towards her. She yanked off the tie clip and somehow wrenched off the $200 tie and flung it somewhere. She fumbled around undoing the top button of the collar around his neck and, with her fists, ripped the rest of the buttons off his $230 dress shirt so she could gain access to his chest and shoulders. Priceless! She kissed and licked his neck and Adam's apple and sucked and grazed her teeth on top of the very site where that insipid IT Polly thing had love-bitten him. Eames was marking her territory. She palmed her hands over his pecs, swirling her fingers around his nipples and cupped his rounding belly. Apparently, the extra padding wasn't supposed to be attractive, but no one informed her starving vagina of that fact. Her denim covered legs spread open on the desk involuntarily.

This movement of her legs was not lost on him and he undid his belt (slowly), unbuttoned the waistband and unzipped the fly. He then kicked off his shoes probably yanked off his socks. She didn't know, because she was watching his café colored trousers and boxers and impatiently waiting for him to unwrap the present that had been lurking in pants. When he was upright again, she got the big reveal. It couldn't be denied even by a gay nun that his was an A-grade cock. She contemplated it with a detached detective's eye for a moment. The man before her was just a massive, massive side of beef(cake) and she didn't know how the fuck to process it. How had she waited this long?

"Geez, Bobby, that thing could have its own zip-code!" And she was intimidated just a little, but there was admiration in her voice too. He grinned. He enjoyed this part.

"Oh, c'mon. I'm not that big," he said, fishing for more and it grew more stiff before her eyes.

"I'm serious Goren, you could satisfy the Statue of Liberty herself with that!" she added, hoping to incite his patriotism.

"Yeah, well there's only one lady in New York I want," he raised an eyebrow, and pounced on her, covering her mouth with kisses. He yanked off her cobalt blue tight-fitting blouse to reveal a black bra with a pink floral pattern. He wasn't interested so much in the flowers, but the flowerbed. He reached around her tiny body without difficulty, whereas she could barely get her arms around his. His nimble fingers unhooked the bra at the back, and he removed it, and threw it somewhere. His giant, gentle hands gazed at her chest and cupped her shoulders. He caressed her soft skin around her collarbone and his long fingers explored her breasts, his eyes drinking them in with the utmost fascination. He stimulated her nipples gently with his fingertips and tongue, and they hardened painfully. He brought his head between her breasts and inhaled deeply, before smothering them with urgent kisses.

She closed her eyes and felt the intimacy and urgent passion of his touch. She ran her hands up his muscular biceps and tried to reach his back. It had been too long since she had been touched this way. He stroked her toned arms and lifted them in the air. He licked her left armpit, and made a noise of pleasure that she had never heard him make before. He was enraptured and his index finger traced her spine all the way down her back as he lifted his head to kiss her throat. She shivered at his closeness. It was almost too close.

Both his hands reached around and he fumbled with the fly of her dark blue jeans, which still had her NYPD police badge clipped onto the hip. He was losing his control, but he some how peeled them off and took her boots and socks off too, attempting to make out with her knees and shins as he did so. He then lay her back on the desk and kissed the flowers on the front of her matching panties, and he pulled those down too and they followed the jeans onto the floor. Except for his white dress shirt, which still hung off his broad shoulders and clung stubbornly to his wrists, they were both unclothed. Their skins were calling to be united. Bobby moved his mouth and hands towards her vulva with the intention of giving her a thorough examination.

"No Bobby," she protested.

He looked up at her startled. He couldn't stop now.

"Not without the latex," she said sneakily. He nodded and almost magically ducked away and produced a condom (though auto-lubing ones) like a rabbit from a hat. She watched as he put it on, wondering if it could even cover his rocket-ship. Success! He stalked back towards his prey.

"The gloves, I meant the gloves. I want you to wear them," she told him. Maybe this was her fantasy, and maybe she needed a barrier from his brand new touch. Either way, she wanted those gloves on his hands.

He thought for a minute and shrugged and went with it. "Uh, OK" and he disappeared under the desk again and she lay on her back, knees together naked, spread across their desks. He stood up, shirt now off, and deliberately slid on the white latex gloves slowly and sensually. She had never seen anything so erotic as this lanky latex warrior.

He glided his hands from her ankles to her knees and spread her legs apart. His gloved fingers explored her fine dark curls and she hissed at his touch. He put his head between her legs and licked tentatively. At first he was curious to know if she was menstruating. He had seen the panty liner when he removed her underwear. What he didn't know is that she had lately taking to wearing them every day. Long days with Bobby had been making her far too wet lately. He could soon tell that she wasn't (and it wouldn't have stopped him anyway) as his tongue explored her dimensions and depth. He needed to prepare her for the coming fuck fest.

"How does that feel?" he asked her, sliding a finger in.

"Uhhhh," she moaned in response.

"You have a beautiful pussy. I knew you would," and he lifted her right leg up into the air and he disovered that she shuddered when he touched the back of her knee. He knew he should give her more time, but she was already so hot, wet, and ready. He understood that his body couldn't wait any longer if this was going to last a respectable amount of time. He tried lifting a size 13 bare foot on the desk, to secure his angle as he pulled her compact body towards him. This wasn't quite what he wanted, so he climbed onto the desk beside her and lay down beside her, his arm propping him up.

"Nobody can see us. It's only you and me baby," he whispered as he kissed and rubbed her still elevated leg in the air. He manpowered her body to allow him to push his hard cock into her sideways. It was like putting a key in a lock and he had to jimmy and jiggle to make it fit. She moaned as his girth penetrated her for the very first time. It was a little painful, so he put one glove-covered thumb into her mouth and she bit it and licked it and she wailed a little and sucked it like a cock. She was an insect trapped and writhing in his love web.

He stroked the hair away from her perspiring face. He wanted to see her beautiful face and dark eyes. She still couldn't formulate words, but responded to his touches with high-pitched moans, which alternatively hitched, released and squealed.

"Ohhhh, uhooh, Gorr, aaah!"

His penetration quickened, and then slowed. Not surprisingly she quickly found out that, like in every other arena, Goren was totally unpredictable when it came to fucking. His movements kept her at the edge of a precipice. This titan had her pinned like a butterfly; her legs were all up in the air and his right forearm was pressing down on the right leg, holding it back while his hips pumped up and down and in and out. She writhed and screamed in ecstasy, and it was music to his ears and spurred him on. He rolled her the side a little more, spreading her ass cheeks for even deeper access to her vagina, as plunged into her sultry depths.

.

She looked into his eyes, crying with pleasure and he looked back with a furrowed, concentrated brow and his countenance showed a child-like wonderment that this was actually happening. He moaned and grunted and called her by her surname while his still fiercely erect cock continued its imperative work unabated. Her right cheekbone and jaw were being stroked by his gloved left hand and thumb. Between her other cheekbone and extended leg was his face. His eyes were looking into hers, listening to her sounds and observing her reactions with a scientific curiosity. His sensuous lips were kissing hers softly and firmly while he fucked her. She found herself grunting and wailing the most unusual primal sounds.

"Talk to me Eames," he wanted to know what she was feeling, and if she was okay.

"Oh yeah, it feels so good Bobby. Ooh oh! You are so fucking good. You feel so good aah. Fill me," his thrusts plunged deeper inside of her in response.

"Talk to me some more baby," he grunted back.

"Ohh ohh, you're my big…My big fucking Herodotus."

He paused for just a second, and his body stopped moving.

"Herodotus!" He reached back into his mind and recalled their conversation about 'tall poppies' that they had shared several months ago, and he echoed her remark.

"Get outta here Eames!" He laughed that maniacal Bobby laugh and she laughed back, admiring his white teeth. The smile then left his face as he resumed the task at hand with even more zeal. He wasn't one to be easily distracted from his focus, and right now his focus was her pleasure.

As the minutes past by, the pace relented, though it felt no less intense for her. His thrusts slowed down to a dull roar and he lay more of his weight on the desk next to her as he slowed down to ejaculate.

" Oh god! Oh god!" she cried and her body contracted and shuddered as dangerous electrical volts surged from the base of her spine. She was coming in her clitoris (where his thumb now lay), her g-spot (where the tip of his cock now lay), her body (which was currently in shock), and her mind (which had blown). He watched her lightning and thunder show unfold and his dark eyes grew heavy with lust, and the lids half-closed. He moaned and moved his hand to her chin, as his orgasm followed her lead. He whimpered and let it wash over him and kissed her lips, languidly slipping in his tongue.

There was such love to be seen in his eyes, that hers filled with tears and she reached down and touched his still moving latex covered rod as he finished the last few throes. Her knee was now bent in relaxation over his muscular forearm and he possessed her little body and soul in every which way. They collapsed on the desk, well and truly spent.

After a few minutes' panting and recovery, the reality of their location and what had just happened hit him. He got up off the desk, removed the condom and latex gloves and put them in a plastic zip lock baggy. He pulled on his boxers and sat back in his chair. He started to get dressed and pick up random objects from the floor. He was muttering to her like a homeless man as he completed his tasks. It wasn't exactly her idea of pillow talk.

"It's better now, right Eames? You feel better? I feel better! Are we better? Is this sorted out? Are you still mad at me?

When she had recovered sufficiently, and her heart had slowed; she suddenly felt very naked under the fluorescent lighting. She located and pulled on her underwear, jeans and boots and blue top, locating her bra and stuffing it in a pocket. She sat down in her own chair and regarded Goren (from this day forth to be also known as Herodotus: The Father of History), and contemplated his questions.

"I'm afraid it's going to take more than just a fuck to sort our problems out Bobby."

He swiftly looked across at her, "How many will it take then?" he enquired sincerely.

She ruminated his question thoughtfully, and after they had cleaned up and cleared the cameras she drove him, in his crumpled expensive suit and ripped dress shirt, back to her place.


	8. Let's Get It On: together

They were silent in the car and he maintained the quietude when he locked her front door, took her gently by the hand, and led her to her bed. This time he wanted to make love to her, rather than fuck her. It was slow, deliberate, intense, passionate yet unrelenting lovemaking. He contrasted his white-hot strength with a gentle and tender reverence for her that only he could possess. She tried to respond with her body and words and hands, but found that she was utterly under his spell- his willing slave. He spoke long-repressed words of love into her ear while he explored her with his hands, nose, lips, fingers, tongue and penis. His winsome ways were oral and aural and inside and out. He seemed to be in possession of ten senses where mortal beings had been blessed only with five.

Each syllable he uttered was whispered in low tones, soft and true, until she capitulated completely and called him her man and wildly licked the words 'I love you' onto his chest, nipples, toes, and even on the dark shadows under his eyes and clutched his slightly curly hair on his head, while clinging to him for dear life. She went down on him for the first of what she hoped would be thousands of times, and she nibbled on his ears- a lot. And he allowed it. She spread her legs wantonly to allow his face to make love to the lower half of her body and he tickled the backs of her knees while he inhaled and savored her fragrance as he drove her to the forth dimension.

She eventually fell asleep with her head on his bare chesty chest; Her lower regions were throbbing and aching, but she was fulfilled to the core. She wasn't sure what time her eyes opened, but she felt the giant grizzly bear beside her stir. He was so there, so present. She could feel his heartbeat in her ear and lifted her head a little to find that she had been drooling on his hairy chest.

"Sorry!" she said and wiped her mouth with her hand and dried to wipe her saliva off him.

"That's alright. I like to have beautiful women drooling all over me," he chuckled lightly. He lifted her chin with his hand and guided her eyes to him. "And you are the most beautiful woman in the world." She was a seasoned detective. She knew when people were lying, and she knew when _he_ was lying. And he wasn't.

After attending to less ethereal bodily functions in the bathroom, they found themselves covered in sheets on the bed, both still buck naked. It was dark, so he turned on the lamp. "I want to see you," he said. She looked at him and blushed, as she had done many times that day. "I want to see you touch yourself."

She looked at him and knew that resistance was futile, so she lay down on the bed, a sheet still covering her freshly awakened body up to her shoulders. Her right hand disappeared under the sheet first sliding across each breast, and then lingering on her stomach and finally to her vulva. When she touched her clitoris, she closed her eyes to focus on the sensation. He rested on his elbows and watched her as though in a trance and removed the sheet slowly but surely. One large hand tried to follow where her fingers were exploring, but she slapped him on his sexy wrist with her left hand. So this was hand porn.

"Goren, I want you to touch yourself," she commanded.

"What? I can't do that," he protested.

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander."

With that, he conceded her point, and to her request. He reached down slowly and fisted his cock, the very one that had worked so hard and given so much pleasure, and sometimes pain, that evening. It was elated to be put back to work after so long in retirement. Eames watched Bobby in fascination, noting how he liked it handled. Then she decided to join in the symphony. She first kissed him on the hip and (huge manly) thighs, and tongued him down the path that led to his groin, around his balls, and back up the other side to his other hip, where she abruptly stopped and rolled over.

"Where are you going?" he asked as she turned away from him. He was slightly panicked.

"Condom," she said, but she couldn't see where they were, even with the lamp on. He stood up and stepped over her, sifting through their clothes on the floor and located the box. She watched his still erect penis, which was swinging around the room; the bulbous head looked like a construction site wrecking-ball and the veins were pulsating, and she suddenly felt a little unsure of her capacity to handle its breadth again.

"Can you get the lubricant out of the top drawer over there," she asked him. She was beginning to realize that her vagina was not made of titanium and thought it deserved a little pick-me-up. In her cunt-struck state, she wasn't thinking clearly. She regretted the words the minute they left her mouth, as she really, really did not want him to open that drawer.

"Hello, hello…what do we have here Eames?" He had found her vibrating Liam Neeson.

"That's uh…I don't know how that got there," she said defensively.

"Oh, you don't?" he asked playfully. He turned it around and examined it with his hands. "It looks a little smaller than you seem to like it, and a little more purple than is strictly your preference. Maybe it's not yours after all. We should test it and see if it fits. You know, like Cinderella and the shoe."

"No, put it back."

"No Eames, I think we need to test it. Where are the buttons?"

"It has a remote control."

"Wow, it's a high tech piece of equipment," he said. He had always been an admirer of toys and was having fun with this one. He found the remote in the drawer and pushed a button; his face was startled by the sudden vibration. He pressed each button one by one, fascinated with the speed and types of vibrations and rotations. She was more fascinated with his hard, perfectly formed butt, which seemed to have been sculptured my Michelangelo himself. Then he leapt on the bed and landed on the aforementioned buttocks, and he may or may not have cracked a wooden slat under the mattress in the process. He held the vibrator and remote in one hand, and a small plastic bottle of lubricant in the other. Now well-equipped (in more ways than one), he was ready to start his little project.

She watched him while he poked out his long tongue and squirted lubricant onto it. The sight of him inserting the vibrator in his mouth and rolling his tongue around it produced a mini orgasm inside of her. He selected a button on the remote which produced a stacatto vibration on-off-off-on, and he added a swirly rotation. To her surprise, he sucked and suctioned it in and out of his mouth. Goddamnit! He was the weirdest sexiest creature in the entire galaxy. After a few more humming strokes, he removed it and squirted more lube in his mouth. Then he brought his mouth to her lips. Not those lips, the ones down there. He lubricated her clitoris and her vagina with his tongue, but it was a rather redundant act, as she was already wet beyond belief.

"Did anyone ever tell you taste like lolly gobble bliss bombs, Eames?" he muffled in between tongue strokes. Not surprisingly, no one ever had. She decided to google that phrase at some later date because she was currently a little distracted, as the head of the oscillating vibrator was currently swirling around the opening her pussy like a helicopter. He pushed 'lil Liam' in gently and then removed it and played with some more buttons on the remote. She moaned as he switched between levels of intensity and began to move it in and out of her.

"You like that baby." There was no rising tone, so she assumed it was merely an observation. She lifted her hips up in response to confirm his accuracy. He slid his long body up next to hers, and rested on one elbow. He peppered her with kisses around her cheeks and lips. The slid his tongue roughly into her mouth while his hand fucked her with the vibrator.

"You like that?" This time he asked.

"I like it, but I like you more," and she pushed him away and removed her hips, throwing the vibrator and remote across the room. It whirred away, and she reached across to her ipod cradle and switched it on, letting Marvin Gaye drown out the sounds of the vibrations.

"Let's Get It On!" Marvin ordered. And who were they to disobey the soul master? She grabbed her large lover by both hips and straddled him. This sudden loss of control of the situation startled him. After all, he had been in possession of it for most of the night. He decided it was time to relinquish the control and let her be.

"Turn this way and lie down," she said police-like authority. "And put on a condom and lube up mister!"

He fumbled around, but complied. With the soft light of the lamp guiding her way, she lined herself up so she could see her naked body in the full-length mirror on her wall, and she could also see the full length of his super-sized dick behind her. If she had to think back, she would have to calculate that it had been about eleven years since she had done 'the reverse cowgirl', and she vaguely recollected that riding a cock backwards had been a favorite position of hers. Although she had never taken on such a huge grunting bucking bull before, she still did not hesitate in taking his cock within her. There was still a need to ease down on him slowly, as she was still sore. She soon forgot the soreness when he was buried into her right up to his plums. She heard him growl as he spanked her on the haunches. Eames groaned as she watched the ensuing show in the mirror. She started riding him slowly as her breasts began to bounce. The slap slap sound they were making was still audible over the music. Seeing his cock moving in and out of her in the mirror turned her on incredibly and urged her to ride him harder and faster.

As Bobby's cock was quite long, when she lifted her perfect heart-shaped ass up and down; he caught glimpses of their anatomy fighting it out in the mirror. At first he just lay back and enjoyed the sensations, bucking now and then to make her adjust her strategy, but his curiosity got the better of him and he lifted his torso and sat up. She felt his cock bend inside of her and she cried out suddenly at the change of angle. He sat on the edge of the bed, still maintaining their connection and cupped her breasts and licked and kissed her ears and neck. The new angle was extremely tight and _caliente_ and moist and therefore excessively pleasing both of them. He rested his chin on her left shoulder as they made eye contact with the mirror in front of them. The sight of his eyes burning into her encouraged her to more firmly grip his member with all her muscles and gallop. Her breasts bounced against his hands, which were fulfilling the function of a human bra. His cock propelled deeply within her narrow tunnel; their combined hot sweat was beading down between their touching bodies. They watched each other's come faces with fascination as they achieved (almost) simultaneous climaxes in the mirror. She grunted and called cried out 'Goren', and he moaned and called out 'Eames' as he offloaded his liquid lust into the condom.

The bond between them was cemented. After ten years of unresolved sexual tension, they had well and truly got it on.


	9. The Histories: Final chapter

Work for the rest of the week went by in a blur.

On Tuesday, they both got in late. They were about to be reprimanded, but were let off the hook because they claimed to have worked back late the previous evening.

_I bet they did_, said the talking walls. _He had some making up to do to her._

On Wednesday, Logan gave Bobby a knowing wink. Mike knew better than to say anything, but the guy who monitored the security cameras of the bullpen had told him about how unfortunate it was that some cameras temporarily malfunctioned on Monday night and that, by the way, Goren gave him two tickets for the big game for his upcoming birthday. Goren still didn't skimp on the restaurant for his date that night.

On Thursday, they proved that the diplomat killed his mother-in-law. He left the country with impunity. Instead of beating themselves up over it, they fucked it all out of their system that evening.

On Friday, she found two red poppies, tall poppies, on her desk (_that_ desk). The flowers were resting on top of a used copy ofHerodotus'_ The Histories_. She didn't try to hide her smiley reaction and this lead to her later overhearing someone in the break room say:

"For sure he gave her the flowers. They are definitely screwing. You can smell it on the pair of them. And she's been wearing turtlenecks all week- in Spring.

She smiled at this because at least, for once, the gossip was true.

Another Saturday came round. On the previous Saturday, Goren hadn't had sex in eight months. His head had been full of fuzzy chaos, and his body had been about to explode.

This Saturday he was in love more profoundly than he believed that any being was capable of. He held his _partner's_ hand as they walked through Central Park in full bloom, as the sun shone down on them in the mid-spring afternoon.

She held his hand right back, their perspiration melding. After all these years of grieving, her solace had been right here all along. It had just been biding its time to take the form it was pre-destined for. Their bodies (and sometimes their hearts) had been apart for too many years to count, which only made handholding all the sweeter. The foundations for their future lives, which had been under delayed construction for so many years, had finally been completed, and they were now ready to build a home.

They watched baby spring birds screaming at their mothers for nourishment and observed the ducklings taking their first plunges under the pond water. But the two detectives had all the nourishment they needed right there. They both found themselves wondering privately if they might possibly have a baby of their own one day.

Alex exhaled. "I love you Goren," she stated factually but with a touch of sentimentality, keeping her eyes straight ahead of her.

They were the words he had yearned to hear, and he had heard them many times that week. _What if I screw it up?_ Was always his gut reaction. He looked down at her and the lighter part of his soul replied, _What if I don't?_

"I love you too Eames," he replied, as his hands were guided to her cheeks by some unseen magnetic force. She blushed a rosy hue as he bent down and kissed her tenderly on the lips. There was no more hiding, no more lying, and no more denying. When the kiss lingered and finally ended with a nudge of their noses, they saw the mutual truth in each other's eyes. They turned and looked down upon their images on the surface of the duck pond water and heaven itself seem to reflect right back at them.

He took her hand in his again, where it belonged. A gentle, cool breeze wafted over him, a wind of change. He suddenly felt the monkey, which had choking him all these years loosen, give up the struggle, and drop from his back into the depths of the lake below. The whirlwind chaos in his mind stilled so suddenly that he palpably started.

"You okay?" she asked.

He nodded slowly as he envisaged the road ahead of them. It would be smooth, bumpy, winding, steep and picturesque, but they would travel it together and write their own histories.

"Yeah, I'm okay"

And he was.


End file.
